


Filling in The Blanks

by sugacrabs



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, My First AO3 Post, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugacrabs/pseuds/sugacrabs
Summary: A short one shot I wrote based off of my Lavellan.. Though he isn't described much, so it can be left up for interpretation really.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 12





	Filling in The Blanks

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhhh, I'm nervous.  
> uh, enjoy??
> 
> Btw: the dashes (ie; --) represent almost like a jump. I'm sort of bad at going into details. Sorry.

You're freezing. It's one of those nights where you wish you were a fire mage. Your blankets being something akin to a thin sheet of paper. Not even the clothing on your body could warm you.

Cautiously, you remove yourself from your bed. Body still ridden with aches and pains from your last endeavor. You almost want to screech and coil your limbs back underneath the little heat you had in bed as your feet make contact with cold stone flooring. You refuse however, it had been a while since you had moved around.

Dorian had insisted that you remain in bed until what he did to you, to protect himself, healed. It hadn't just yet, but you refused to just lay around. You wanted to move, to feel useful, to feel like yourself.

You would walk out into your courtyard, if it was warm. You would climb to the battlements, if it was warm. You'd journey into the mountains around the hold, if it were warm. But, you're stuck moving to your bathroom, peeling off your clothes, and removing the cloth around your wounds. A bath was your only option now.

\--

The fog that traveled it's way up, and over, the rim of the tub seemed to mesmerize you for a moment. You took these moments for granted now, not knowing when you be able to have such a luxury again. 

Cautiously you stepped into the water, throat producing a pleased noise, breaking the silence as hot water started to work it's subtle magic on your muscles. A slight sting biting at your wounds as you lowered yourself to a sitting position. It was tolerable, it lets you know you are still there. 

Letting your head rest against the back of the tub, you stared blankly at the wood ceiling. This room had a pleasant smell that seemed to linger in your nose for hours after being in here. It calmed you, sent sweet shivers down your spine. 

It smelt of autumn leaves, cinnamon, and those fires you make to keep yourself from falling asleep. Delightful, and yet it gave you a sudden sense of yearning. It made you want someone to be sharing this moment with you.

You would rather take silence then the worried complaint about being out of bed. 

\-----

It's a hand that catches you off guard. The subtle press of finger tips to your tricep muscle. You had been so lost in your own thoughts that it makes you jump. A quiet chuckle coming from the body beside you.

'It seems like the Inquisitor cannot stay put for long.' 

You glance up, keeping yourself put in the warm bath you had drawn. You expect the next words to be closely related to how you're being impossible, that you'll reopen the wounds he tried so hard to heal.

"Dorian..."

You speak in hope that he will cease his nitpicking. 

With a smile, he shakes his head. Moving away from you for a moment to begin shedding himself of the Tevinter armor you've taken to memorizing, down to each fiber. You have always found this process of his erotic.

'If you're going to go against my wishes... I am just going to have to ensure you do not hurt yourself, anymore at least.'

You see this as being rewarded for such actions. That sweet autumn smell intensifies as he enters the bath. Taking his place across from you. It takes all of your strength to not join his side, to cuddle him, to remind him that he is still the center of your world.

For a moment, it's silent between the two of you. That silence is defeated by the sound of water, hands tugging your wrists, and the motion of being pulled on to one particular mage's lap. It's nice to feel the warmth that permanently clings to Dorian. You've missed it so much.

'Amatus..'

He whispers, almost as if he's having a bit of trouble wondering if this is the right time to be doing these sorts of things.

"Ma vhenan?"

You reply, a sweet tone in Elvish. You're aware of his little weakness to the language. You've found that you rather like the facial expression he makes when you speak it.

\--

It isn't silence, it isn't as if you're just being close without any other actions being permitted. The two of you are sharing much more than that. It's quiet laughter, and gentle tickles. A bit of conversation, and a bit of physical attention.

It started when Dorian took his fill of tiny kisses to your neck and shoulders. Placing those gentle, when they wanted to be, lips over the healing burns he gave you. Whispering something you couldn't quite catch, but judging by the tone, you figure it's an apology.

You return his actions with wandering hands. You like the feel of his skin, the slight stubble on his neck, the warmth seeping through his chest. You had always wondered if fire mages were constantly warm, and now you couldn't get enough of it. His body heat relaxed you, yet also stimulated you. 

\-- 

Dorian can tell the damage being done to you is welcomed. He can feel the tensing of your muscles, the slight shake to your legs as he meets skin with lips. He wants to rush things, he wants to get you out of this bath and into your bed. He wants his way, he wants you. But, the more he hears those quiet whines, those pleased moans, he starts to crave that slow romantic sex. The type Cassandra would read when she thought no one else was looking.

Without much warning, he grinds up against you. It's slow and thorough, hands grab your hips, and the action is repeated. It drives you up a wall rather quickly, and you can't help but plead and moan for him. You know he likes that, when the subtle masculinity you have vanishes and turns you into something akin to a whore. You know he loves to have that power.

You're like putty in his hands as he positions you to hover only inches from his cock. Your legs seek place on each side of his waist, and you allow him to slowly push you down onto what you've wanted the most this whole time. Your hands digging nails into his skin as you accustom yourself to fit him.

This is the first time you hear him moan. Naturally he's talkative, but rather quiet where noises are concerned. The sound sends shivers up your spine, and he starts a slow pace. His hands, as always, in command of you body. 

\--

His subtle sounds are drowned out by the volume of yours accompanied by the sudden splashes of water. His hands grip, and you can almost feel every inch of him. Deeper, harder, as he begins to lose that well controlled temperament of his. It's driving you crazy, and you no longer think you're going to last much longer.

Dorian knows that though, you know he's figured you all out.. Where sex is concerned at least. His pace doesn't change, though he angles better, hitting your sweet spot quite flawlessly with each thrust. Whispering in his native language, pushing you closer and closer to your goal. 

It takes only a few more minutes and you're screaming his name. Arching your back, and gripping his shoulders. You ride him, you ride out your own orgasm, and you lead him right into his own. You take pride in that ability, you take pride in having one of the most flawless men panting, complimenting you. 

\--

He cleans you, pampers you, and cherishes the closeness you both have at the moment. You share tired conversation, and he carries you to bed. This is the best part of your evenings with Dorian. He cuddles you, wrapping strong arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Nuzzling your neck, tickling you with his facial hair, and kissing the skin where his lips meet.

'Go to sleep, Amatus.'

He whispers, yawning softly. 

With those words, you succumb to the sleep you have so desperately needed. You do not think about if he will be there in the morning. You are just happy he is here now. Where he should be.


End file.
